


Stop and breathe

by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Series: Slowly loving you [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, Trans Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 04:44:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15744552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Summary: Enjolras thinks about his past, when he was recognised as a girl.He thought of his disappointed mother, the distance he had created between the two of them... Just because he knew he was a boy.





	Stop and breathe

This was it. The moment of truth.

Almost everyone he encountered complimented his looks, told his mother she was very lucky to have a child like him. His mother routinely would politely smile and say, "Yes, I don't know what I did to deserve her." As the memory flashed in his mind, he contemplated why his identity haunted his mother so much through his recent years. She was so proud of him many years ago. Yet it was so easy for her to lose pride in her own child.

"I want those," Young Enjolras pointed at boys' clothes.  
His mother laughed softly, "But those are for boys, my dear."  
Enjolras did not bat an eye.  
His mother's voice faltered as she lectured him.

Looking past, Enjolras wondered why his mother was so very proud of having him and showed off his beauty to everyone, but when he asked to be a boy instead, she would instantly burn all the love she had for him. Her love for Enjolras was so evident throughout the years, showering him with toys, but once he had asked an innocent question, "Why was I not born a boy?" she turned her head, ignoring his presence. When he did first ask that question, her eyes lost its flare of happiness and life, and stared at him as if everything she had feared, yet knew was inevitable, came true. That was the last day he saw her hopeful eyes.

Now Enjolras stood in front of a mirror, viewing this woman in front of him. Her hair was long, running down to her shoulder blades, wavy and soft. She had piercing blue eyes with cheeks that had no colour; no life. Watching this woman in front of him made him anxious. It was as if she was not breathing, holding her breath as if awaiting for a hit any second. Enjolras felt his palms increase with sweat. What would his mother say? Would she finally toss him away? Disown him? Enjolras tightened his grip around the scissors. His mind kept whispering for him to cut the beautiful blonde hair his mother had adored so much. Become independent. Be free.  
He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his right fist which was holding the two blades, ultimately hearing a cutting sound. 

At first, Enjolras only felt darkness and thus refused to open his eyes. Such beautiful person he saw in front of him would be gone. The treasure and compliments would be lost. He did not want to open his eyes. What if? What if? What if... he saw a woman?

His eyes craved light, and desperately focused on his reflection. A woman stared back at him. He screamed, wailed, cried. He could no longer see clear. He was not supposed be a woman, He was not supposed to be born this way. He was not supposed be living as a woman, if you'd call this living. He screamed for no one for there was nobody who knew his secret apart from his mother. His mother of course did not aid him in his breakdown. It was not whether she was present in the house at that time or not to Enjolras, it was the fact that she had lost care to nurture him any longer, thus would never aid him any longer. He needed someone to lean on, and his mother was absent. A hole in his life. A hole in his heart. And a hole in his identity.

A couple of days after that meltdown, Enjolras searched the medical cabinet in the house while his mother mindlessly watched TV in an another room. There, he found what he wanted: bandages. A long, long bandage was what he needed.

He scrambled to the room he cut his hair in. Breathing uneasily due to fear, excitement, and the past, he immediately took his shirt off. He choked as he took off his bra.  
Then he wrapped the bandages slowly. Around his chest.

That was his first day when he truly showed himself. People started calling him a 'he', boys no longer flirted with him, and he was recognised, truly, as a man.

His mother however did not even notice. She did not even blink, or show a reaction. In her eyes, he did not exist any longer.

Years passed, and he was in his mid-twenties, moved away from his mother, with a mediocre job with a mediocre pay with a mediocre place of residence. He made many friends throughout his years.  
Combeferre and Courfeyrac were his first two best friends ever since the day he truly saw the reflection of a man he desired desperately for. They met in University, all studying politics and literature. The three were so passionate about the two subjects, only the three could stand each other.  
Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta later joined the group. Musichetta was not fascinated by neither politics nor literature, but did bring happiness, passiveness, and positivity to the group whenever anyone would cross a line, or experience an unfortunate day. The three were dating and they never failed to remind Enjolras love does exist, and not always in the form of friendship. That, one day, he too would feel love. At that time it did seem very impossible.

Enjolras also met Grantaire. He was not really fond of him since Grantaire preferred argument over anything else, and always rode the horse of negativity and darkness, and he would never get off that damn high horse. He joked a lot and never took their discussion seriously until he would spark a heated debate between he and Enjolras. His friends would always try to diffuse the situation as much as possible, but sometimes on rare occasion they would do nothing, just watching the argument, smiling. This has happened more recently and Enjolras could not figure out why.

"We found this really smart guy just wondering around like a bumble bee, and he seemed to ramble on about politics under his breath as he walked past us, so I invited him herer so he can mutter out loud," Combeferre beamed at Enjolras.  
The man was named Marius, and he defined awkward. When Marius looked at Enjolras, his eyebrows lifted, with his mouth shaping 'oh'. He blinked several times, frozen in the moment. Enjolras was used to strange reactions from others around him, though he would admit, Marius' reaction was different, though still uncomfortable. Enjolras shifted in his chair.  
"Oh, oh no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare at you- I do realise that was very rude of me, please forgive me," words rushed out of that man, "It's just, ah, you, um, Enjolras, look..." Marius paused to steady his breath, "Very beautiful."  
Enjolras smiled and thanked him. For the fist time, being called 'beautiful' felt refreshing.

Some time after, Enjolras found his calling and set heart on leading a protest to change the government's unforgiving, strict, unjust rules.  
He was planning on different ways of getting the point across with the least amount of casualties. He knew it would break his heart severely if the people who were the Friends of the L'ABC faced injuries when he could have avoided it.  
"Apollo," A hoarse voice called him from the other side of the table. Enjolras was so preoccupied with his work, he did not notice another man sit across from him.  
"Stop calling me that," Enjolras murmured, while continuing his calculations.  
"Enjolras, before we have our first rally- which is obviously going to fall apart due to so many holes in the ship, I want to... mention something to you."  
"Go away, R, I'm busy."  
"Why can't we have normal conversations? Without trying to attack each other?"  
"Because you always argue." Enjolras lifts his head up to see Grantaire leaning to him while sitting comfortably.  
"Yes, when we are discussing about politics. Besides, I prefer the word 'debate'. SInce at the end of the day we're still us, right? Friends?"  
Enjolras did not reply.  
Grantaire dips his head, sighing. To Enjolras, his body actions were exaggerated, but his throat went dry when he heard his sigh. It was as if pain ate Grantaire up for years, and he was slowly releasing it. "Ap- Enjolras. I care deeply about you, and I'm pretty sure you think of me as dirt," Enjolras nodded, "Though I don't think you realise how much I... love you, Enjolras. I would...lick your boots if it meant you'd be happy! I would accomplish any task you throw at me. If you have belief in me I would never... let you... down.  
"I love, venerate, and adore you, Enjolras. Even when you think you are hated. Just remember. There are always people staring at you in awe." Grantaire thinks for a moment then laughs while speaking, "And if you think you are truly alone, and that there's nobody by your side, just remember, I will always be at least thinking about you. Looking up at you. Admiring your beautiful personality, and wonderful charisma, and the never-ending passion and range of emotions you have. You give colour to my vision. You should remember that. Always,"  
Enjolras did not know what to say, and Grantaire nodded to himself as 'I thought so', and with a sad, yet with love in his expression, walked away, out of the room. A burning memory scorched through Enjolras' brain.

"I'm a boy," young Enjolras proclaimed.  
Only silence existed at that moment- that painful moment as his mother looked down at him, eyebrows knitted, her mouth tightly enclosed, and her eyes increasingly becoming watery. The heartbreak. The loss his mother felt.  
At that age, Enjolras felt nothing but sympathy towards his mother. He cursed his words, but no matter how much he despised it, it was true.  
Life was cruel. It was so cold towards him.

But with Grantaire, his heart would transform into fire, warming him up, granting him the feeling of hope.  
Although Enjolras was gifted with friends that deeply cared for him, it was Grantaire who was able to teleport Enjolras to the obliviousness of his younger self. When everything was smooth and fine, when happiness was a given.

Grantaire's unorganised ramble that made him realise this. Enjolras did not need to fill the hole of losing his mother, he needed to accept it. And his friends and Grantaire would allow him to do just that.

For the first time, he continued his work with a grin on his face, excitedly waiting for the next day. The next day when he can see his friends again, when he can see Grantaire again, when he can feel the great relief that he can express himself as who he is. He can stop and breathe, he can slow down, he can be himself.


End file.
